


Pretty In Pink: Or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

by spacemonkey



Category: U2
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bono is very late to the photoshoot, and brings Edge down to his level. Set during the famous Anton Corbijn drag photoshoot of the early 90's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty In Pink: Or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

**Author's Note:**

> My first U2 fanfiction, and I'm rather excited and scared about the whole thing. This was inspired by pictures of the boys in dresses, as all good life choices should be. Specifically, a photoshoot done by Anton Corbijn in the early 90's where Adam looked smashing, Larry looked surly and Bono looked rather dainty. Once I noticed Edge's hairy thighs, it was all over for me and I gave in. Unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine

And here they were again.

Edge couldn’t believe it, really could not believe that they were doing this, yet again, that once more, someone had managed to talk Larry into putting on a skirt, a rather short skirt to be fair, and pouting at the camera. And yet, here they were again. Almost.

Adam seemed pretty comfortable, lounging with as much grace as he could muster in his dress and raising his bottle to anyone who happened to wander by him. Larry sat with his legs hanging open and his face was getting darker by the minute. And the minutes kept on passing. And passing. Edge found himself straightening his wig and smoothing his skirt and silently bemoaning how hairy his thighs were. He’d never really noticed until he put on a skirt, and it was a pretty horrifying sight. His hairy chest and stomach weren’t too flattering either, and he wondered if the others were having the same bizarre internal crisis. Perhaps that was what was taking so long? It was all so fucking ridiculous that he had to laugh. Adam glanced up at him, then went back to blowing into his bottle when Edge just shrugged.

 Larry let out a heavy sigh and turned to face Edge with a pointed look.

Edge rolled his eyes. He’d been waiting for it.  “Why does it always have to be me?” Adam and Larry just laughed, and Edge knew that, yes, it always did have to be him. He didn’t want to go into the reasons why, so he got up and ambled out of the room without another word.

He went two doors down and pressed his ear to the door and listened. Nothing. Silence.  Silence was never usually a good thing when it came to Bono, thought it was often a blessing. But they were holding things up, well _Bono_ was holding things up and he needed _something_ because if he knew Bono, and he did know Bono, he knew there was a possibility of him sitting in there, completely ignorant of both the time and the waiting game he was causing. He tapped on the door half-heartedly and then opened the door with the key card he’d kept hidden in his top without waiting for a response.

Bono had his back to him, clad in pink and hunched over on the couch. Edge could see a selection of dresses thrown over the bed through the open bedroom door, and he had a sneaking feeling that a choice had not been made there. A stream of smoke lightly fogging the air was the only movement, so Edge tucked the key card back in and shut the door with a thud.

Bono didn’t jump, didn’t turn at all, just waved a hand in Edge’s general direction and said, “I’m uncertain, Edge.”

Edge sighed. Words like those generally did not result in quick resolutions. “Of what?” But as he crept closer and around the couch, he could see the dilemma sure enough.

“Blonde or dark?” Bono looked up from the wigs, spread out on the table in front of him, and both he and Edge stopped for a moment, staring at the other. Bono was the first to break and he smiled and leered and took another drag. “Well, hello dar _ling_.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Bono like this before. The One shoot was a not so distant memory, but the make up there had been severe, the entire look harsh so it would film well in black and white. This, this was different.

Edge had to remind himself how late they were, but it didn’t hold. He felt somewhat dumbstruck really, as his eyes tore themselves from Bono’s face and travelled downwards. There he was in full make up and a headband that itched and a skirt that rode up and shoes that bit and he was completely  uncomfortable. And there Bono was, hair falling in messy waves around a face that was fully made up, dark eyeliner and darker lashes, rosy cheeks and well-shaped lips that kept staining the cigarette hanging from his mouth. It was obscene, at first glance, and altogether sultry if he had to find a word, but there was also a softness underneath it all.

It was the bare feet and dressing gown that left him hanging though. A silky pink thing that clung to his skin in places that left Edge wondering if he was wearing anything underneath. Completely unnecessary for the entire situation, as were the red toenails that were soon to be hidden. Edge wondered two things: where the dressing gown had come from, and who had painted the nails? He knew Bono didn’t have either the patience or the dexterity to pull off such a task. And he’d seen the selection of clothes they had to pick from. The gown had not been one of them. It could have been Ali’s, but Edge would not have been at all surprised to learn that Bono had bought it for himself.

Bono caught his eye and grinned an almost feral grin.  “I figured why not have a little fun and take things a bit further? No one will see, you know, but I’ll remember.” There was a final drag of the cigarette and then he was stubbing it out. “And so will you.”

They were going to make everything so, so late, and Bono wasn’t dressed, was mulling over fucking _wigs,_ probably hadn’t even chosen an outfit, and yet all Edge could focus on was the way Bono’s fingers were now playing with the belt of the dressing gown.

“So, which do you think?”

“Is that Ali’s dressing gown?”

Bono looked down at himself thoughtfully. “This? No. The wigs, Edge?”

Edge watched as Bono’s fingers continued to stroke the belt, and he made two completely different decisions. Larry was really going to kill him. “Blonde,” said Edge as he took a step back.

“Blonde? Really?”

“It’s something different.” Another few steps.

Bono hummed. “I like different.  Maybe I should bring both?” He glanced over his shoulder towards Edge, now standing by the door. “We’re going to be late.”

“We already are,” Edge said, and locked the door.  It took all of his effort to merely stroll back across the room. He hovered over the couch, hands flexing.

Bono raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead picking up the blonde wig and gently setting it onto his head. It sat haphazardly, with his real hair sticking out from underneath and Bono grinned salaciously towards Edge. “Different enough?”

“Bono, we are so very late.”

“Anton loves to wait.” Bono stretched out onto his back, arms going above his head and the dressing gown slipped over his thigh enough to confirm Edge’s earlier suspicions. “He enjoys the anticipation.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm. It makes for a more satisfying finish, Anton says.”

“Does he?”

“All the time, The Edge. Leaves him wanting to do it more and more, the anticipation does.”

“Anton says a lot of things, it seems.”

“Well, he’s an artist, you see. They just don’t stop.”

Edge perched himself on the tiny space Bono had left him on the couch, wincing as his skirt pinched into his waist. He had no idea how women did this.

Bono caught the look, and his face fell serious. “You look fucking incredible, Edge.”

Edge didn’t have much of a response for that, not one that Bono would listen and agree to anyway, so he instead just reached out and unknotted the gown’s belt.

The silk slid over and away from Bono’s skin, exposing dark hair and so much more and Edge couldn’t help himself; he reached out and touched Bono’s chest gently, his fingers brushing up through coarse hair until they reached stained lips. Bono nipped at fingertips lightly and laughed until Edge kissed him, softly as to not make a mess of the make-up. He pulled away as quickly as he’d started, tasting the remnants of too many cigarettes and Bono let out a frustrated whine. Edge stopped him with a firm hand. “I want to go down on you,” he whispered.

Bono’s eyes widened slightly, then he groaned, head falling back onto the pillow. “Christ, Edge.”

It was all Edge needed to hear, and he started his trail south, Bono’s hands coming down to grip at his arms at first, then loosen and stroke and clutch as Edge went past his bellybutton, his wig trailing behind. Bono’s thighs fell apart and he hitched a breath inwards.

There was a pounding at the door, and Edge nearly fell off the couch. Bono’s legs snapped shut and he bolted upwards as the handle was tried, and then Larry bellowed, “People are waiting, you know!”

Bono and Edge locked eyes, frantic until Bono’s shoulders loosened and he began to shake with laughter.

“Coming!” Edge yelled back, and Bono just laughed harder. There was what sounded like Larry grumbling through the door and then footsteps stomping away and Edge managed a smile back.

Bono shook his head, a small smirk still playing on his face, and he wiped at his smudged eye make-up with a finger. “We’ve got to get someone to remove that stick from his arse.”

“Well, he has been waiting for over an hour.” Edge rubbed Bono’s knee and gave him a look. “You better go put your frock on; we’ll have to continue this later.”

Bono frowned at that, but grudgingly tied his dressing gown back up. “When?”

“Later.”

“ _When_?”

“Later!”

“Tonight?”

“Maybe, now come _on_.” Edge got up from the couch reluctantly, and waited for Bono to follow. But Bono just sat there, twisting his rings and sighing. “You alright?”

“Hmm, could you stall them for a few minutes? I’m not gonna fit into my skirt in this condition.”

Edge glanced down at Bono’s crotch, smirked, then turned and headed for the door. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He only just missed the black heel that Bono flung at his head.

 


End file.
